


It's Not Charity

by Gadhar



Category: The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3423803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Gadhar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No, this time I didn’t do nothing. Some guy came in here and tried to bleed to death."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Barney runs the rag down the bar again and checks to make sure everyone still full on drinks and that no one’s tried to snatch their keys either. Everyone in the bar right now are all regulars and none of them are the type to try and pull one over on him but he likes to be sure. 

Better to keep watch and make sure that Swedish fuck Gunner isn’t messing with him again as well. Some of his customers have still not forgiven him for ‘losing’ their keys for a few hours. Even if he did later find them tied to the chandelier in the back and made sure they were all returned. 

Except Gunner’s, he made the guy walk after that. 

The door to the place creaks open with same screeching stiffness it always has and he looks up along with everyone else in the place to watch the newcomer. 

The bar doesn’t exactly do a whole lot of business. Especially at this time of night. They’re known to cater to a certain type of crowd and everyone is generally fine with that. So newcomers are always interesting.

The guy is a little unsteady on his feet and Barney gets the sinking feeling that he may be dealing with another drunk. The kind that pops into another bar after getting kicked out of the last one. 

If that’s the case, he’s ready to kick the guy out. 

The newcomer stumbles over some chairs but eventually reaches the bar and drops into a stool, he leans so far forward, like he’s ready to pass out and this is all he can do to stay upright.

The thing is, for as fucked up as the guy looks, he doesn’t smell like he has one drop of any kind of alcohol, and the eyes that blink back at him are disturbingly clear and focused if a bit pained.

Well Barney can’t blame him for that, just about everyone who finds their way in here first time around are dealing with pain.

“Can I get you something?”

“You got any Glenfiddich back there?” The voice is lower than he expected, rapsy, deep. The kind you expect to rumble in your chest. 

Barney gives him a thin smile, snorting. “Sorry, ‘fraid were not that upscale. I got some Jack Daniel’s back here though. Might even be able to dig up something German if you’re looking for something from the other side of the pond?”

The guy scrunches his nose up, snorting, and it’s the most British thing Barney has ever seen and he doesn’t even know how that’s possible. 

And then the guy’s mouth opens, but instead of a ‘bugger off’ or whatever other British thing Barney was prepared for, there’s a pained _whine_ and the guy pitches to the side off the stool and hits the ground hard and it only takes a split second before Barney’s dashing around the counter to the sound of chairs screeching behind him. 

Barney drops to his knees and he can already hear someone on the phone in the distance. He can’t make out who it is or what they’re saying because all he can see is blood. _Everywhere._ It’s pooling beneath the guy and Barney can’t find any fucking wounds for all the dirt, grime and _blood_ all over this guy’s clothes. Some old and dried, most of it fresh but he can tell it’s been going on for awhile. 

He finds two wounds in the guy’s stomach, he’d guess stab wounds but he can’t really tell and it doesn’t really fucking matter because all he does is put pressure on the wounds and yell for someone to get the damn first aid kit.

_The guy came in here bleeding to death asking for a fucking drink._

That’s what he tells the paramedics when they ask. Like it’s somehow pertinent to saving a life. It’s what he tells the cops too. And even though Caesar nods, the fucking rookie with him keeps pushing for more, like Barney might’ve stabbed the guy himself.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? The kid’s new, wants to catch some big case. Bring down a drug ring or something,” Caesar says after sending the rook to the hospital to sit around and wait to question the victim.

“Is that what this is?” He fucking hopes not. He doesn’t need that kind of attention on the place and neither does Tool and none of the customers would respond well to cops or criminals paying extra attention to this place. 

“What? Nah. Look’s like the guy was homeless. Was probably some dealer he tried to flip who stabbed him. Or maybe even some stupid kids getting involved in a little homicidal fun. The doctor’s say the guy will probably be fine so we’ll go from there. Maybe catch the fuck who stuck the poor bastard.”

“He’s not on drugs.” 

Caesar arches an eyebrow and Barney swallows. He doesn’t know how he knows. Sure the guy wasn’t high when he came in but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t shoot up or smoke or whatever. But Barney’s sure he doesn’t. As sure as he is that this guy, whoever he is, isn’t some random homeless guy either. 

Caesar does not question him though and just nods. 

The door screeches open again and they both look.

“Look, I’ll fill you when I know more. See ya.”

“Thanks Caesar.” Barney watches as Caesar leaves, nodding at Tool as they pass each other. 

And then Tool’s beside him, surveying the area like he’s looking for damage. “You didn’t fight someone again, didja Barn? Told you to take that shit outside.”

“ _No._ And I really wish you’d let that go. It was a personal beef from years ago and it won’t happen again.”

“Personal beefs always find a way to you, my brother.”

“Well that one’s finished. Anyway no, this time I didn’t do nothing. Some guy came in here and tried to bleed to death. He’d been stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Tool muses as he stoops, and he’s pulling out his pipe, loading it up with that shit that always gets Barney pleasantly dizzy even when he doesn’t want to be. Tool’s also staring fixedly at the drying blood on the old wood floor. “What lost soul would come here to die?”

Barney shrugs because fuck if he knows. “I’ll clean it up, okay? Replace the floor too, if need be.”

Tool rises, smirking around his pipe and he pats Barney’s shoulder as he walks by with all the swagger that he usually has plus a little more. The same little more he usually gets when he knows something Barney doesn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit shorter chap *shrugs*
> 
> I'm going to, for once, try and space out updating. Mostly because this week's been shitty (with awesome 'moments' which is really just fucking with me), I can't seem to get my mind out of it's current headspace of anger-depression, and all that is very counterproductive to writing. 
> 
> So, at least this way I have something to post even when I've done no writing whatsoever. Because I haven't. At all.

Tool closed the bar for a few days after that. The regulars, who are more like some kind of fucked up herd of lost puppies trailing after whoever feeds them than ‘regulars’, are still coming in and part of that Barney thinks is because Tool likes keeping them out of trouble elsewhere, and the other part is that you couldn’t tell the pricks no if you wanted.

So as he slaves away on the floor, trying to scrub blood out of wood, Tool runs the bar and they all sit and poke fun at Barney. 

“You missed a spot,” Gunner says and demonstrates the size of the spot with his hands and then snorts before going “Fuck it, you’re in the middle of the spot. You got to work harder than that to remove the stain.”

“Fuck off, Gunner.” Even if he is right. Barney’s been down here a good hour and he is not making a progress. 

“Maybe you should just leave it. For like, decoration. Add to the authenticity of the place,” Toll says and Barney can hear the quiet sigh of laughter that is Tool and everything he thinks of that idea. 

“I heard Oxyclean is very good for this kind of thing. Did you know that they stick a penny in it and it comes out all shiny and brand new? It’s very useful. You could always have very shiny pennies.”

“Why does Galgo want shiny pennies?” Caesar says as he stomps in, dropping stiffly into a chair. “Thanks, Tool.” The cop’s grabs one both of the cold beers Tool offers and flinches when the liquid hits his busted lip.

“Forget pennies, the fuck happened to you?” Barney pulls over a chair and straddles it, cleaning can wait. 

Caesar grimaces, a shadow passing across his eyes. “That guy, the dude who’s life you saved. That’s what happened to me.”

“The Brit? He’s alright?”

“Eh...relatively.”

“Relatively? The fuck’s that supposed to mean? This ain’t rocket science Caesar, trust me, I know.”

“What happened?” Barney repeats if only to keep Caesar from wasting his time with Gunner. The blonde’s been in a foul mood all day. 

“He freaked when he woke up. Something tells me he’s not a fan of hospitals.”

“Who is.” Toll snorts and he passes over an ice pack he must’ve snatched from the freezer in the back. 

Caesar promptly puts it to use. “No, I mean like. He literally freaked. Thought we were gonna kill him or something. Started screaming and yelling. I was trying to hold him down so he wouldn’t go psycho. But the guy’s got moves. I mean _trained_ fucking moves. He nearly dislocated my shoulder.”

“Did more than that by the looks.”

“Yeah, well. Anyway, the docs sedated him and apparently are going to keep him sedated until he’s all good to get the hell out of their hospital.”

“You ever find out who he was? Who stabbed him?”

“Not who stabbed him but we did get an idea on the guy.”

“Yeah well, who? Quit with the suspense. Tool needs to know who bled all over his floor.”

“I will admit that I am mighty curious as to what kind of fella drags himself to a bar after getting stabbed instead of getting help.” 

Barney grunted his agreement. He had a feeling in his gut though that Caesar was playing this up for some reason.

“Guy’s name is Lee Christmas. He’s been a ghost since the Gulf War. And I mean like, super secret agent stuff. The guy’s former SAS.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally pieced together some bits in the beginning so that I can actually post this bit. 
> 
> Now if only I could create bits to fix up the later chapters because fucking Lee is a lil' shit when he wants to be. I love him but gawd.
> 
> I'm also going to pretend like I didn't start another fucking AU for this fandom. caretaker!Barney is holding my muses hostage.

“Are you family?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then I can’t let you in. Family only.”

“What if he’s got no family?” Barney asks agitatedly. The nurse is spending way too much rolling her eyes and staring at the flowers he’s carrying than anything else and it’s quite irritating. 

“I’m sorry sir, but–”

“What if I was with a cop?”

“Are you a cop, sir?”

 _Does he fucking look like a cop?_ Though he supposes Caesar doesn’t look like much of a cop either and he actually _is_ one. “Look, Officer Hale Caesar said–”

“Oh!” The nurse’s bright voice sends him flinching back a step. It was like someone just flipped this girl’s switch. “You’re _his_ partner? Of course you can go in. Go ahead. Room 52.”

Barney blinks at her and then the flowers in his hand and then back to the nurse before shaking his head and going down the hall in search of room 52.

It was easy enough to find and he slips through the door without a second’s hesitation. Inside is where he ends up hesitating because he didn’t actually think this far. 

Plus his stranger from the bar looks a helluva lot different now and Barney...Barney was all for it.

The guy...this Lee Christmas looks a lot more rested. Relaxed. And maybe a lot of it is the sedatives and lack of blood everywhere but he still looks alive. Less dead. And that’s good. 

“Wow, they‘ve kinda put you out like a dog, you know?” Barney says to the room, staring at the flowers that come up when he waves his hands. “Yeah, I don’t know why I said that. Or why I brought these things. I guess ‘cause you’re supposed to. I think.”

He looks around like an idiot for a few more moments before wandering all the way up to the side of the bed, staring down into startling brown eyes; slow on tracking his movements and too foggy to be really focused, but still...

He loses his train of thought then. He hadn’t actually thought to wonder whether or not the guy was awake and now that he so obviously _is_...Barney has no idea what to say. And as drugged up as Christmas looks, he’s not even sure his words are being understood.

And then the eyes drop closed and Barney breathes again.

“This is weird, I know. You don’t even know me. I can’t even claim to be your bartender cause you started dying before I could serve you anything. But I guess I just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know? And now I’m standing here like an awkward dumbass...impersonating a cop...and even if you remember me now you probably won’t later. This was a dumb idea. Sorry.”

Barney fidgets another minute before leaving the flowers on the windowsill and doing his best not to look too stupid on his way out. He probably fails. 

 

Barney does absolutely nothing the next day. With the bar closed he doesn’t exactly have a job unless he wants to pull work at Tool’s garage and he doesn’t really want to work. Period. For multiple reasons.

One of those reasons is that it’s nice not having to deal with drunk idiots every night. Because there’s always at least one and while Barney can generally handle, it’s the damages to the establishment that he can’t handle. That, and Galgo’s incessant need to play bouncer which is probably going to end with him in the hospital.

_Right next to one Lee Christmas._

And that right there presents his other reasons. All in one man. Some small fascination that is probably closer to an obsession but he’d rather not admit that to himself or anyone else. 

Christmas’ face is one that haunts him at night. In a way that’s entirely different from any of his demons and is somehow a helluva lot more upsetting. Because there’s no blood or gore, no screaming or pain there’s just this pair of eyes that he sees. _All the fucking time._

And they’re Christmas’, he’s damn sure of that. Sometimes they’re the ones from the hospital—soft, vulnerable, and utterly lost. Other times he sees the pair that zeroed in on him the first time they met—sharp and pained. And sometimes he sees nothing but himself in those damn eyes. Dark past, lost soul, barely holding it together, and then another layer of misery on top of it all that Barney is pretty sure is all Christmas.

No doubt he was that miserable once too but he had Tool holding him together. Probably still would if he needed it but Christmas? It’s evident the guy’s on his own, even if he didn't have Caesar filling in all the information to confirm it.

Maybe he feels sorry for the guy but Barney knows it’s not just that. There’s something else. And it’s the something else that has him sometimes making a sandwich wondering if Christmas is a turkey or ham kinda guy. If he’s tea or coffee. Every now and then he’ll glance at the few photos on the mantle, those with his old team and he’ll wonder about the Brit’s own experiences and if he lost his team like Barney did and if he feels guilty about it. 

But then he’ll just as easily then look at the stack of paper on that same mantle, that stack that has random doodles on every page, and wonder if Christmas doodles, or writes or maybe he’s even a musician and Barney can ask him if he’d like to be live entertainment at the bar so customers don’t have to always listen to drunken karaoke or Toll. 

It’s ridiculous, all this damn thinking but he just can’t stop and after seeing Christmas in the hospital, _knowing_ what the guy’s probably going through—

It’s too much of a pull on his ego, on his protective instincts. It’s not really that he wants either of those things to happen it’s just that they kinda do and it’s easier to just go with them then to resist. So yes, he will jump in the line of fire for his men, he will shove people out and away if that’s what he thinks is right, and he will, apparently, regularly visit a kindred spirit in the hospital after they tried to die in front of him.

 

Barney replaces the flowers with fresh ones; blue violets, as Galgo had suggested, and takes up the chair that what will be, at this rate, his grave. 

Galgo’s the only one who seems to know about Barney’s long visits with Lee Christmas, though Barney would not be surprised if Tool knew as well. Even so, he’d rather nobody knew, if only to avoid the endless teases that would come with the knowledge from the guys. 

He’d still come though.

The nurse still thinks he’s a cop though he wonders how much longer that will last since he never wears a uniform and all he does when he comes in is change the flowers and read. She tells him those are good things though, that he goes above the call of duty. Barney tries not to roll his eyes. 

He supposes the reading does help though. It didn’t even really take more than one visit to see how on edge the hospital made Christmas. He never really ‘woke up’ due to the sedatives but the way he usually twitched in his sleep, the overall tension in his body—it made his feelings on the place pretty clear. It’s part of the reason Barney started reading aloud. The other part being that as much as he doesn’t mind hanging around, he minds the sounds of the hospital, _a lot._

Today he’s going through the last few chapters of 'The Mystery of Edwin Drood' and he’ll be damned that he still has no clue what the fuck is going on. Christmas is relaxed though and that’s really the whole point so he doesn’t really care. 

When he finishes the book he shuts it and looks over at Christmas...who’s not sleeping like he has been for the entire week Barney’s been there. His eyes are alert and—

Christmas starts gagging. His hands scrabble at the tube in his throat, all the machines start going off and there’s yelling in the hallway and—

The nurse skids in with another one and they both go towards Christmas and start trying to calm him down. They’re yelling and trying to force the Brit’s arms down and do this and that and Barney just stands there, rooted to the spot. 

There’s doctors pushing their way in now and Christmas is screaming and yelling and the tube is gone and his hands are rigid claws that tear at the staff and they start yelling about sedatives and it’s dangerous and when one of the nurses gets knocked to the ground Barney finally moves. 

He has to force his way in but it’s surprisingly easy even with all the people yelling at him and then at Christmas and just the general screaming. But he gets close and he shoves people out the way and he grabs Lee’s arms. 

He knows a panic attack when he sees one. And everything they’re doing is so fucking wrong, he can write a book on it.

Christmas is stronger than he thought, pushing him off, nails tearing at his skin, snarls in his ear and he climbs on the bed to get some leverage. It lets his full weight rest on his hands as he holds down arms and he looks at Christmas and sees nothing but pain. A bright, vivid pain that sends Barney’s heart into his throat even as his gut clenches. 

Barney tries to get through to him, he really does. But it doesn’t matter how many times he says Christmas’ name and tries to tell him it’s alright, he doesn’t get anywhere. Not until he grabs Christmas’ face, keeps a steady grip and just looks. They lock gazes and Barney doesn’t know what does it—if it’s the look on his face, or maybe the hospital staff started pumping drugs into Christmas, or something else—but Christmas stops.

Well, maybe stop is the wrong word but he stops fighting. He doesn’t go completely still, he’s shaking too hard for that and his eyes are still far too wild and his hands are still on Barney’s arms but they’re not...clawing into him anymore, they’re _clinging_ , and there’s a flicker of recognition in the eyes before they go completely blank and they’re just staring at each other.

Barney lets out a breath and lets some of the tension in his shoulders drain out. He can hear one of the doctor’s muttering in his ear but he just shrugs them off. “I got this.”

He doesn’t know Christmas. Doesn’t matter that he almost saw the guy die—that there was blood, hot and sticky, pumping through his fingers and Barney can still see it sometimes—that he’s sat here at his side just so the guy’s not alone. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know this guy and that means that no matter how much his heart is aching for this guy and telling Barney to do what Barney _knows_ works for him—

He doesn’t know this guy. 

So he pries Christmas’ hands off and climbs down from the bed. And then he wraps his hand around Christmas’, gripping as tightly as he can manage and drags the chair over with his foot, dropping into it with a tired sigh. 

He turns to see the line of doctor’s and nurses that are just staring at him like he’s some sort of miracle worker. It makes him wonder if this is the first time they’ve ever dealt with a soldier before.

He spots the nurse who’s usually at the desk, the one who thinks he’s Caesar’s partner. “Get me another book, will you?”


	4. Chapter 4

He gets kicked out of the hospital. 

It was the nurse, who thought he was a cop. But he’s pretty sure the actual reason he got kicked out is about 2 feet taller with an Austrian accent.

“The fuck were you doing?” He snarls, walking down the front steps to his truck and ignoring the guilt that’s rolling in his gut. 

“I was looking for you! Can’t a friend look up another friend when he’s in town?”

“Sure, but we’re not friends. How did you know where I was anyway, you always start your search at hospitals?”

Trench gives him a grin full of bleached teeth that are way too fucking bright. “With the trouble you get into, that is not so far a stretch. But no, I tracked down Tool. He directed me here, said you were visiting your boyfriend.” 

Barney chokes at that, jerking to a stop and whirling around to Trench with half a mind to pull his knife out too. “He said that???”

Trench shrugs, same stupid grin in place as he lets his sunglasses slip down his nose. “No, but I can put two and two together from what he said.”

Barney snorts, leaning against the truck door because as much as he wants to get in and leave, he’s afraid that Trench will take the action as invitation to get in Barney’s truck and Barney does not want that. At all. “Well you need to check your math.”

“Oh? So what is he then? A friend?”

If Barney’s honest, no. Christmas isn’t. Not to say Barney doesn’t want that but it takes two to be friends and when one half of that equation is relatively incapacitated, there’s no way for there to be a friendship. 

And yet, Barney doesn’t really have another word for it, so he shrugs, turning the conversation back on Trench. “How about you tell me why you thought it was a good idea to walk down the hallway like a boisterous fuck yelling my name? And how about the part where you thought it’d be a good idea to pull out a _goddamn knife_ in the middle of the hospital room?”

“It is a new one, very nice. I thought you might appreciate it. My mistake.”

“Yeah, your big fucking mistake. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jeffords is a friend of Caesar’s, both our asses would be in jail.”

Trench’s nose scrunches up as he mutters, “You could afford bail”, and then saying, far louder, “Seriously though, what’s your deal with the kid?”

“He’s not a kid and I...I don’t know. I guess he just needs someone. Why not me?”

“There are so many reasons why not you. But in deference to your sensitive feelings I will not list them. Instead, I will tell you of how you remind me of–”

“No,” Barney holds up a hand, “ I do not want to hear about any damn fairy tales of yours. Get in your damn car and leave me alone.”

“Why so you can brood?”

“I’m not going to brood.” Barney says but when he turns around from unlocking the truck door Trench is gone.

 

He’s tearing up the floor. 

The blood’s not coming out and he doesn’t give a shit what it does for authenticity. If anything it might freak out future customers and at the very least, right now, he’s got problems with blood on the floor. Every time he looks at the damn spot he sees those eyes from the hospital and it is distracting as all hell.

He hasn’t been to the hospital for almost two weeks and the distance seems to be killing a small part of his soul. It’s just like those damn eyes and the feel of that hot-cold shivering skin under his hands and he can’t—

So he’s tearing up the floor. At first he was just going to remove the one part but Tool has taken the opportunity to start remodeling and he wants the whole floor to be some amtico wenge flooring. Barney figures he can do that as long as he’s not expected to paint the whole damn place next. Tool really should hire some other employees.

That damn door screeches out and Barney makes the mental note to ask if Tool wants to replace that thing because Barney can get behind that; it’s annoying as fuck. When he doesn’t hear Tool’s soft but confident footsteps he throws out a “We’re closed!” over his shoulder and goes back to cutting away the floor.

But then there are more footsteps and they’re a whole different sound than any he’s heard before. Barney stands, turning around with a hammer loose in his hand just in case and he damn near drops the thing. “You.” It’s all he can think to say but it’s enough to make him want to smack himself.

Lee Christmas stands there, tall and strong and looking nothing like the poor bastard that stumbled into the bar nearly a month ago. “Me.”

Barney knows he’s blinking like a dumbass but he can’t seem to stop. Can’t seem to do a lot of things in fact. Like think like a normal fucking person. Christ, what was wrong with him?

“Look, sorry if I’m uh interrupting your absolute butchering of that floor but I was looking for that cop and...I know he hangs out here.”

“He comes by sometimes, yeah. What you want him for?”

Christmas shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, “Apologize.”

“For bashing his face and nearly dislocating his shoulder?” And he didn’t mean it as a joke, despite the eye roll he’s getting and snort or irritation. He’s deadly serious. “Sorry, just every time Caesar’s come in here busted up, no one really wanted to apologize for it.”

“Well, they were probably a bunch of petty crooks and I–”

Christmas’ voice cuts off and there’s a flash of guilt in his eyes, and anger and shame so Barney prompts, “You?”

“Nevermind. Just, is he going to be in?”

“Probably not for awhile. That’s what the closed sign on the door means. We’re remodeling for a few days.”

Christmas snorts again when Barney says ‘remodeling’ and he goes back to looking at the torn-up floor at Barney’s feet with absolute disgust. “Yeah, sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you ever put in a floor? Or pulled one up for that matter? You’re screwing yourself for later, doing it that way.”

“For your information, I work on roofs, so no, I’ve done neither of those things. And two, if it wasn’t for you bleeding all over the damn place, I wouldn’t have to ever do these things.”

Christmas rolls his eyes and struts forward, snatching away Barney’s hammer. He drops to his knees with only the barest hint of a flinch.

“Hey, you even healed yet?”

“I’m fine.” 

And automatically he gets to work, measuring and rummaging through the toolbox for shit Barney was probably never going to use. 

Barney squats beside him and watches, mostly curious about the actual floor though he will admit part of it is just curiosity about this mysterious Brit. “You live ‘round here?” And yet again he wants to hit himself because what kind of question is that.

Christmas glances up at him, scowl firmly in place. Barney takes it as a ‘no’.

“You got a home somewhere though, yeah?” Not even a glance this time and Barney thinks maybe the homeless theory was true. And if so, it’s sad as fuck. “I was just wondering.”

Christmas slams his tool down, leveling Barney with steely eyes that are as mesmerizing as the one’s from the hospital even without all the drugs. “What are you fishing for? You want me to say it? Tell you I’m just another one of those hobos on the street and you don’t have to give a single fuck about me? Because it’s true and all I came here to do was apologize to the cop. If you don’t want me to fix this sorry mess you got here that’s fine, just say the word and I’ll go.”

“I was going to offer a place to stay,” Barney snaps back and takes a moment to gloat for rendering Christmas so surprised. Then he realizes what he actually said and screws his mouth shut, tight.

Christmas still looks shocked, unnecessarily so and it gives Barney the cold feeling that maybe this guy doesn’t know what to do with people being kind to him. Because even if he hadn’t meant to say it, he’s not going to take it back and he damn sure doesn’t regret it. “You serious?”

“Yeah. I live in the back half of the place, got a couch.”

“You’re fucking mental. You just offer up the keys to your place to any old sod who walks by?”

“I didn’t say you were getting a key. Sheesh, haven’t even had a first date yet.”


	5. Chapter 5

Christmas ends up staying with him and Barney is pretty much utterly confused as to how it happened and how it happened so _quick._ After the initial shock Christmas was into the idea no matter how hard he tried to act like he wasn’t and Barney would have to be blind and deaf to not see the pure desperation and pitiful hope in Christmas’ eyes and voice every time he asked Barney if he’s really sure about this and later, if it’s okay if he stayed for just one more day.

Barney is tempted to tell him to stay forever. It’s scares him how...filled his house seems now. Not because he doesn’t want it to be, but it’s such a stark contrast to how quiet and empty it was before that it’s kinda scary for Barney to realize he had been that miserable. And now, now he wonders what it would take to get Christmas to stay a bit longer. Maybe a date.

He hasn’t been on a date in years and suddenly he’s got game when it comes to the guy who nearly bled out in front of him because hell he got the guy in his house, right?

He’s not even sure when he decided he wanted a date with Christmas either. Or that it was a good idea, but he’s pretty sure it happened somewhere around the time he walked in on Christmas toasting poptarts. Shirtless. Because apparently that’s how you were supposed to toast poptarts considering every time Christmas did it, it was sans shirt. 

It made Barney wonder if he would do it sans clothes if Barney wasn't there. 

Overall it wasn’t going the way he thought it would and not in a totally bad way and to make matters worse the whole point of having Christmas there was to give the guy a chance at rest and he wasn’t even fucking doing that. He was getting those dark circles again that Barney had seen the first time they met.

It wasn’t like he could just bring it up though, not when he heard Tool subtly pointing out that he had some sort of protective streak towards strays. He _didn’t._ He just helped _this one guy._

And maybe Gunner and the others but that was just as much Tool’s protective streak as his. 

And then he didn’t have to bring it up, because Christmas did it for him.

It was the sounds that did it. Ghostly familiar, quiet but growing louder and more desperate. Inhuman sounds. And Barney was on his feet and rushing towards the living room without a second thought.

Christmas was still on the couch, sitting up with the back of the couch at his side keeping him propped up. He was twitching, stiff jerky movements that had Barney’s gut clenching. And when his head started to thrash, the noises turning to pleas Barney was already there, knees on the sofa, hands on Christmas’ shoulders and shaking gently. 

“Hey. Hey! Wake up! Shit, Christmas. Lee!” All the muscles under his hands stiffen and Christmas’ eyes snap open. Barney can see them, old demons and nightmares and whatever else playing across his eyes and Barney can see them slowly receding into the dark.

“Relax, ‘kay? Not going to hurt you.” Barney backs away slowly, just to the other end of the couch. He can still remember all the times Tool had to wake him up from all his own night demons. It had always helped him, to have someone close. Reminder of the present. 

Christmas’ breath was slowing, and the twitches that had turned to shakes were now lessening and the first thing out of his mouth is a choked hiss, “Sorry.”

Barney shakes his head, “I get it.”

There’s a look in Christmas’ eyes that says he doubts that. So Barney clears his throat, pulling his legs up to his chest. 

“I got my own demons. Got ‘Nam and Korea and a bunch of other shit. No doubt you got your own scars. Caesar said you was SAS. I’m guessing you did more than just the Gulf.”

Christmas’ voice is thick and rough when he makes a noise in lieu of saying something and nods and Barney’s just glad to know the guy doesn’t look stupidly ashamed anymore.

And it’s probably cruel to go digging for information right after a nightmare like whatever Christmas was dreaming about. But any other time the man seems untouchable, not so much closed-off as unwilling to accept any closeness, or friendship. 

“So, you’re former SAS in the States and you end up getting stabbed on the street. Why come crawling to a bar?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time. I was dying, had no reason to really fight it. Might as well get a good drink on the way out. ‘Cept you didn’t have no bloody Glenfiddich. Just that American swill.”

Christmas smiles at him and even in the broken shaft of the moonlight Barney can tell it’s a beautiful smile. So he laughs and it’s a warmer feeling in his chest than any whiskey.

“So, tell me something.”

“I feel like I’m not going to like this question.”

“You freak at the hospital because of some nightmare? Same reason I can tell you’ve been refusing to sleep.”

Christmas looks at his hands but he lets his neck go boneless, relaxing against the cushion. “One of the POW camps I was in was set up like a hospital. They used to...” Christmas’ voice cuts out with a shudder and Barney moves closer, setting a hand on Christmas’ knee. “they did things. I can never get the images out of my head around places like that. Hospitals, I mean. I’m, you know, alright the rest of the time.”

Barney smiles mirthlessly at himself because he knows ‘alright’ is just another word for barely making it and so many things are piecing themselves together in his head.

“Go back to sleep, okay.”

“I really don’t–”

“Relax. Told you’ve I’ve been there. It’ll help to have someone else, to keep you from going too far in you know? Get some sleep, I’ll stay right here.”

Christmas gives him the most blatant untrusting look ever. Pure disbelief. And Barney doesn’t know how he does it but Christmas apparently convinces himself that Barney’s telling the truth because he closes his eyes and Barney can see the exact moment Lee falls asleep again.

It’s also the exact moment he realizes he’s become, quite possibly, a little too fond of this stranger.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short chap. No worries, still more written. And I sorta have a regular update schedule going here right? *pats self on back*

“Here.” Barney drops the trashbag on top of Christmas’ stretched out legs on the sofa.

And Christmas damn near flinches away from the bag, then stares at it like it might stab him before giving Barney a suspicious look that’s equal parts ‘what the fuck?’ and ‘Holy shit’. 

Barney chooses to ignore that look and go into the kitchen, nothing but the goal of food and maybe some coffee in his mind. 

“What the hell are these?” Christmas demands as he stomps into the kitchen a pair of pants from the bag gripped in a fist.

“Clothes.” There’s already coffee made, thank god. He takes the two steps over to get some bread before throwing those in the toaster and pushing down the lever. 

“I can see that. I mean why?”

“You should of asked why then.”

That statement is met with dead silence and Barney supposes that if he was looking, the look Christmas must be giving him is absolutely lethal. So instead of risking that, he checks the toast to make sure it isn’t burnt and says, “And they’re clothes for you to wear. You’ve been wearing that shit from the hospital. They probably need to go through the laundry.” Admittedly Christmas hasn’t done much but chill on the couch and fix the floor of the bar, but still. 

“I don’t need clothes. Not from you.”

Barney rolls his eyes, leaning against the countertop and crossing his arms. “Sure, you don’t absolutely need them to survive or anything but it might help you feel more human, which considering how much of dick you’re being can only be an improvement. And secondly, don’t get in such a hissy fit, it’s just old stuff from the back of my closet, and Tool’s, with a bit from the thrift store that Galgo runs. It’s not like it’s fucking Versaci. And if you have someone else to give you things then please, enlighten me, because judging by the fact that you’re in my house, sleeping on my couch, I’d say you have no one.” 

He doesn’t mean to be an ass about it, but considering everything is a fight with this Brit—he won’t take the money Barney pays him for the work, he won’t eat anything but the fucking poptarts because they’re the cheapest food Barney has, and he keeps acting like Barney’s on the verge of kicking him out—some things apparently need to be said. 

And if the look of shame and guilt on Christmas’ face is anything to go by, maybe Barney went a little too far with that last bit. “But you got me so you might as well take what you can get. Jesus Christ, Christmas, it’s not pity, it’s not charity, it’s just some damn clothes.” And money you earned, but he’ll leave that discussion for later. “You’ve been here three days. Relax.”

 

 

Except those three days turned into more than a week and Barney found himself enjoying the company. It was going to make it all the harder when Christmas left—when _Lee_ left. He supposed he could call the man that now. Now after they’ve shared meals. After Barney’s woken him up from nightmares. Now that he’s learned that Lee likes to sing and hum to music under his breath, that he likes to doodle and scratch out little poems on scraps of paper lying about the house, that he’s a sucker for anything caramel and he’s a closet-romantic judging by the way he freaks and quickly turns off the Hallmark channel anytime Barney walks in the room. 

Yeah, sort of hard not to call someone by their first name when you know stuff like that. Hard not to like them.

But he’ll take what he can get, as long as Lee’s here.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating today because I have to work this weekend. Well, I had to work today too but I just want to actually read some fanfic this weekend so that's what I'll be doing instead of posting like I have been. Because update schedules are not meant to be followed, evidently. Plus guess who hasn't read any fic and forever and has like a gazillion fics to read and comment on?
> 
> Also excuse the absolute dorkgasm towards the end of this chap. I must've been feeling particularly geeky while writing this particular section or something.  
> If this feels a bit OOC, I apologize. Writing is hard. So is dealing with two dumbasses who can't decide what they want to fucking happen in a story.

They opened back up and Barney had almost forgotten about what started this whole thing. It’d been about a month and in that month Lee had become a friend, sort of, and Barney was so used to having the Brit around he hadn’t really thought about how other people might take it. Or rather he didn’t bother to think that the guys would start thinking him crazy just because he took the guy in. 

Caesar was shocked, Gunner smiled like a demented fuck, Toll just shook his head and Galgo seemed more concerned about discussing european football than anything else. 

That was how they started and now they were all sitting with Lee, talking more around and at him than to him, though that was generally how things went with the group anyway.

Christmas kept shooting him nervous glances and Barney did feel a little bad about leaving him stranded there but he had wanted to apologize to Ceasar and Barney did have a business to run.

When business slowed down and Tool ambled his way in, Barney did finally make his way over to the back table. Most of the guys were roaring with laughter and all had bright grins on their faces. Lee was even throwing in a few chuckles, no matter how forced. 

Lee stiffens at first when Barney’s hands come to rest on his shoulders but it last maybe an instant before he’s relaxing again. It makes Barney smile though he wonders what it means that Lee’s so uncomfortable around others. “I see we’re all playing together nicely.”

“Hey Barney, yeah our British friend’s a good guy. Quiet, but good.”

“No hard feelings than, eh Caesar?”

“Yeah man, we good.” Caesar clinks his glass against Lee’s untouched one and Barney can feel some of the tension slip from Lee’s shoulders. 

Barney supposes that’s good but Lee still looks a little overwhelmed. Can’t blame him really, the guys are a bit much to take in. So he leans down, voice low, “You want to get out of here?”

There’s a slight incline of a head and Barney nods, drawing Lee up. “Well I’m glad, now we’re going to head out so, try not to drink Tool out of business, eh?”

And just like that they’re outside and Lee’s visibly more relaxed in the midnight air. “Thank you. They’re alright guys but...”

“Loud and obnoxious, yeah. I get you. Don’t worry about it we can–”

Barney’s brain stops. His mouth too and maybe even his heart considering he can’t breathe. There are lips—soft, beautiful, fucking lips—against his and he feels a little light on his feet, head swimming with a pleasant fog that matches the pleasant warmth in his chest and he’s slowing feeling other thoughts seep into his mind.

Thoughts and realizations that they’re kissing on the sidewalk outside next to a busy stretch of road, even at this time of night, and he’s pretty sure someone just honked at them. And there’s the fact that it’s Lee he’s kissing and it’s a sweet kiss. Small and innocent and soft and undemanding and over way too fucking quick.

Lee pulls back, grinning and there’s laughter in his eyes. Barney knows he probably looks like an idiot, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, stupid grin slowly forming. “Sorry,” Lee says a bit sheepishly. “I know, no first date yet.”

“Uh...no, yeah, that was...yeah.” He sounds like an idiot, all jumbled words and no meaning and when Lee starts to frown Barney just blurts, “Let’s go now.”

“Now?”

“First date. It’s late but, I know a diner and they have some pretty decent burgers, and this cool little old-timey soda hose, and there’s even this specialty milkshake that...um...”

“You’re rambling.”

“Yeah, I tend to do that when uh, when cute British guys kiss me randomly.”

“Oh, I’m cute now?”

“Yeah, a little. Wow you’re, you sure do change moods quick. I mean you were just...”

Lee shrugs, shoulders riding up to his ears and it’s shy and not at the same time. “I’ve been told I have two modes: full blast on and off. ‘Sides, I like you more, so different mood. So should I have not done that, was I reading the whole staring thing you’ve been doing the past two weeks wrong? Or are we actually...”

Lee gestures and Barney shakes his head, trying to regain some focus and dignity. Though he’s probably got no hope at either. “No right, the diner, uh this way.”

Lee said he was rambling but Barney thinks that’s nothing compared to the way Lee rants. That’s another thing he learns about Lee as they make their way through the streets to the far end of town. Lee’s voice is in his ear, a constant soft but excited murmur, going off about all sorts of things. First it’s how much he hopes this diner has tea and what type of tea and then it’s about the kiss and how sorry he is but he couldn’t help it and then it’s about each of the guys and what he thinks of them and how he wanted to stab Gunner in the eye and how Tool is kinda quiet but it’s a nice quiet and Galgo’s a bit overwhelming and Toll’s a bit too over analytical and is Caesar really a cop? Because he’s nothing like the guys Lee’s run into over the years. 

And Barney replies with a few grunts and nods and an ‘I don’t mind’ and a ‘how many times have you dealt with police?’ all the while steering Lee around obstacles in the form of trashcans, lightposts and mailboxes because it became very clear after the first trashcan that Lee can’t really multi-task all that well when he’s on full blast rants.

Lee’s in the middle of a story that’s equal parts humorous and sad—and it reminds Barney of the time Lee randomly mentioned his mom last week—when they hit the door to the diner and Lee talks all the way up to when they’re seated with a couple of menus then he actually takes a breath. And then he’s staring around, lost and faintly awed and Barney can’t help but grin. 

“It’s the diner,” he says and Lee nods at him absently before reaching for one of the menus. Barney reaches out and takes them both handing them to the waitress and ordering for the both of them. Lee does little more than pout at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll like the food.”

“But how do you know what I want to eat. First date remember? You don’t know me.”

“I know a fair amount, I think.” Though figuring out what Lee would eat is actually fairly easy because he’s okay with just about everything. 

“So what do people on first dates usually do? I haven’t been on one in awhile.”

“I don’t know. It’s been good twenty years since I’ve been on one. Maybe should’ve talked to Tool before we left.”

Lee gives him a look that’s all shades of suspicious and disbelieving.

“Tool goes on a lot of dates.”

“He that much of a ladies man?”

“Um...more like he lifts his arm and a girl appears under it. After that, all he has to do is be his usual, quiet, sweet talking self and,” Barney gestures with his hand to sum his point up and there’s that same faintly awed look on Lee’s face that reminds Barney of some childlike wonder. Something tells him Tool and Lee will get along real well.

The waitress drops their burgers and fries off with a pleasant smile and totally eyes Lee in a way that makes Barney’s chest tight. He’s happy to know though that Lee’s only got eyes for his food and its in such a way that Barney can’t do anything but grin.

When Lee notices, he’s already shoveled a whole handful of fries in his mouth and he gives Barney a leveled glare. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

It goes silent after that and it’s strange how comfortable it is. Even at home when they eat together there’s still a layer of awkwardness that Barney can’t quite but his finger on. But now, it’s nonexistent and already Barney can see so many quiet mornings spent in comfortable silence with Lee wrapped in his arms after—

“You hearing me?”

Barney shakes his head clear of thoughts and looks at Lee who’s already through all his fries and half a burger. Two in the morning and the guy’s gorging like he hasn’t eaten in years. “Uh sorry, I just...”

“Wow. I’m boring you to death on our first date. I really do suck at this.”

It’s mostly joking but Barney can hear that undertone of hurt and he shoves his basket of fries across the table before that hurt sets in. He knows Lee well enough to know that the bright grin that stretches his face is real, and genuine and hopefully means Barney’s misstep is entirely forgotten. 

When in doubt, feed Lee.

“So, you were saying?”

Lee looks at him with a mix of confusion and something Barney thinks is...well, lust seems wrong because it’s food but then, not a whole lot else seems right. Then his face goes a strange neutral and Barney recognizes it as something he does before saying anything vulnerable, for lack of a better word. “Uh, I just want to say thanks, you know. Like...”

“I didn’t do it for thanks.”

“Yeah whatever but I mean...just thanks okay?”

“All I did was offer you a place to stay.”

“And be there when I lost my shit.”

Barney stares at table and Lee stops chewing. “You remember that, huh?”

“Yeah. Was kinda weird, I’ll admit, waking up, like off the drugs and everything and you weren’t...there.”

Barney nods because he doesn’t have anything to say and he can see that there is a whole lot Lee wants to say, all of it reflected in his eyes. But he doesn’t say any of it either.

“I also, for some reason, know a strange amount about hobbits and middle earth even though I don’t really go for fantasy, much less Tolkein. There’s also a strange story that’s floating in my head that seems unfinished but reminds me, dreadfully, of Charles Dickens, and, along with all that I can also remember something about a U.S. Marshal though that one I have no clue on.”

Barney actually manages to look up at that because, okay maybe he kinda expected Lee to remember the panic attack thing but the books? Not at all. “I didn’t know you were listening.”

“I don’t like medication, makes my head foggier, more than it’s supposed to, so with as much as they had me doped up, I’m honestly surprised I was still breathing. But....when you're trapped in your own body you can hear pretty well. It was good not to have to listen to hospital stuff; the machines and everything.”

“I’ll have to pick better books than next time.”

Lee smirks at him though there’s a flash of unease that says he never wants that to happen again, the stabbing and the drugs, and Barney’s right there with him. “I’m more of a spy guy, or sci-fi.”

“What, like Star Trek or something?”

“Hey Spock is cool, man. And if I could have been like Bones, I might’ve been a doctor.”

“But?”

“I don’t really have good bedside manner. ‘Sides, I don’t like working with _just_ scalpels.”

Barney hums at that. A thing for knives would definitely explain some of the scars he’s seen on Lee’s hands, small, barely noticeable things but there nonetheless. “Tool’s got a pretty decent collection, if you’re interested.”

“Interested would be an understatement.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chap but I need the chapter break for a scene shift, _so- ___

The conversation died down a little after that. So much so that Barney can’t really remember so much what was said as he does the way Lee looks when he says things. That is to say, Barney basically stared at Lee. A lot. And noticed so many things he never noticed before and he’s never claimed to be the sharpest nail in the box but he at least thought he was a little more up on it then he seems to be now because it’s slowly slinking in that fondness was an understatement for full blown obsessed love. And it’s all directed at Lee and Barney only hopes he’s not really obvious about it if only to keep from overwhelming Lee. 

While he’s thinking about all that though Lee somehow brings up the gun collection that Barney kinda had hidden behind a locked door and Lee really wasn’t supposed to be in there but whatever and now because of that they’re on a firing range though Barney’s not really sure when they went from shooting real, actual guns, to grinding their own, much more personal ones, against each other with Lee between him and a wall. 

“Shit,” Lee hisses out and he’s tight and tense and burning hot against Barney. “First date and we’re already at second base, pretty sure tha-that’s not how dating–fuck!–works.”

“You’re forgetting the uh...shit, the past month or so.” Barney grounds out and he lets his forehead lean against Lee’s, breaths hot and mixed and he’s already close, the tightness in his balls is riding with the heat in his gut and god they gotta fucking stop before he loses it right here.

Lee seems to have the same idea as he tries to move away, though it’s more of a squirm than anything and with Barney boxing him in he only really moves up the wall a little. So Barney sucks in a breath and steps away, trying to calm down a little. 

“Not much for the possibility of voyeurism, eh?” Lee’s grin is toothy and feral and Barney’s mind swarms with so many dirty thoughts he almost believes he’s twenty again. Horny as hell and very ready to do everything he’s thinking of. 

“I’d rather keep you all to myself quite frankly. ‘Sides, we are here illegally.”

Lee gives him a look that’s supposed to be irritated, Barney thinks, but they’re too dark and lust-filled. “Yeah well, we don’t have a car so if you think I’m fucking _walking._ ” Lee’s mouth presses against his again and it’s enough to get Barney to say fuck it. He growls low in his throat, Lee answering in a bite to his lower lip and then he’s got Lee back against the wall, hands in his pants, vaguely wondering if obsessed love was an understatement too.


End file.
